Life Beyond the Veil
by Minikin
Summary: It wasn’t until he wondered why Sirius had left his mug of tea half full and cold on the kitchen table that realization shot through his body like poison.


_Hello, Reader:_

_This was never meant to be what it's becoming. It all started when I wrote something that I didn't mean to write, and didn't erase it. I have no idea where this little hurricane is going to strike next, but I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me some feedback and some time to finish it. Which may be a while from now, as the school nazis rule my life at the moment._

_All right._

_Begin._

When Remus Lupin's feet made contact with the stone floor of Number Twelve Grimmauld place, he didn't notice that it was empty. He didn't hear Moody step from the green flames behind him, nor did he Kingsley after that. He walked numbly to the sink and turned on the tap that always leaked. Black dots prickled before his eyes against the white porcelain, stained immediately by streams of hot water and blood. He didn't feel the gash in his palm constrict in pain, and he didn't realize that he had burnt his skin until Kingsley had turned off the faucet.

It wasn't until he wondered why Sirius had left his mug of tea half full and cold on the kitchen table that realization shot through his body like poison.

Oh, _god_.

And it was then that Remus Lupin fell to his knees, because the sound of Moody's chair against the floor and the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt hurt his ears. The pain that met his legs was nothing compared to that of the searing bolt of anguish that drove violently through his heart. His head collided with a leg of the long, wooden table, and he squeezed his eyes shut because the dim light was far too bright.

Oh god oh god oh god oh _god_.

There were hands on his shoulders, and he detested them, willed them to leave for their roughness. There was commotion and there were voices. There were footsteps, far too frantic for the still morning. And there was wetness, _oh_, and his hand left a broad smear of red as dust mingled with sticky pain that smelled of copper. Salt water rolled down his cheeks, washing the dirt and sweat away, and tickled his neck as it dribbled down his shirt, droplets clinging to his jaw, bruised and clenched.

"Is Ginny there too? Are they-"

"Arthur, get a blanket!"

"If you could just prop his head- no, no!"

He was screaming inside, a chorus of horrific nightmares that swelled ghost-white with disbelief. His insides churned with the weight of lead, with the consistency of acid. He shivered violently when the thick cotton was draped over his frame, when the blood rushed from his head as he was forced to sit upright, his neck lolling backward against worn, splintered cabinets.

"What's gotten into him?"

"It's Sirius, Molly, he-"

_No!_ He wanted to shriek. _No, no, no, no, no no no nononononononononono._

He didn't want what he had seen to be confirmed, didn't want what he had told Harry to have been the truth, didn't want to admit that he was gone. Gone. _Gone._ He opened his eyes. Hestia Jones was crouching next to him, running a damp cloth across his forehead, and Kingsley stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her administrations with mild concern. Molly was sobbing, Arthur was comforting her, looking anxiously toward the fireplace. Moody sat with a bloody rag to his head, and Mundungus stood uncharacteristically silent in the corner.

Remus breathed again, his chest heaving and aching.

"How's...does Harry?..." Molly choked.

"They've taken them back to Hogwarts." Moody offered gruffly.

Remus didn't resist when Hestia began to undo the buttons of his shirt to press the cloth against the bruised stretch of skin on his side. He didn't answer when she asked him what spell had hit him there, nor did he when she gave a whispered "I'm sorry, Remus." He simply watched as Moody fussed over folding his stained bit of fabric into half, then over again. The way Molly's hands looked old against her wet, pink cheeks. And the way Arthur's glasses sat precariously at the tip of his nose.

"Shit," Said Moody, "Shit."

Remus didn't cry again after that. He changed his clothes and people came and went downstairs. When he became afraid to be alone, he sat motionless in the velvet chair next to the front hall. When Molly came in from the kitchen with tomato soup and kind words, he smiled and thanked her for the empty reassurances.

When eight o' clock rang through the dark house in successive chimes, Remus had grabbed his coat with a sick feeling in his stomach. He reached for the door just as it swung open, and Severus Snape almost ran him down. Snape's expression was blank, if not somewhat curious. Remus didn't care that his own eyes were red and swollen, and he didn't care that Snape didn't greet him, because he wouldn't have returned the thought anyway.

Nymphadora's hair was long and red, a riot of color against the crisp white of her pillow. He tried to guess what color her eyes were under those pale eyelids as he steadied himself against the edge of her bed. A stout healer watched him suspiciously from her post, as visitors to St. Mungo's were quite rare at this hour.

Remus resorted to pulling up a chair and grasping her limp hand in his own, bandaged one. Her skin was milky and soft, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest comforted him. She stirred, and Remus' heart leapt.

"Hullo, Tonks."

Tonks opened her green eyes. Remus, with a pain in his chest, thought she looked rather like Lily.

"Remus?" He smiled and swayed at the effort. She blinked a few times before trying to sit up. Remus pushed her back down tenderly.

"Oh...wow. How long have I...?"

"Hours."

"Huh. You look like you're the one who needed it, not me." Remus laughed feebly at nothing. Tonks' brow furrowed at the thick scent of firewhiskey on his breath.

"Remus, what time is it? Where've you been?" He gazed heavily at her and smiled.

"You know, those bruises look reallyreallygoodwithyourhair." He slurred. She looked angry for a fleeting moment, then tired.

"So do yours, Moony."

He frowned and looked utterly bemused until he realized that Sirius didn't have red hair. Then he laughed as if it were the funniest thing he had encountered in ages. Tonks looked startled.

"I love you."

"Remus, you're drunk."

"I know. I don't drink."

He massaged her hand with his thumb.

"So...are you gonna tell me what's up, or what?"

Remus was silent for a while, as if he were weighing his options.

"No."

Remembrance suddenly dawned upon Tonks' face.

"The prophecy?" she asked quickly, "Do we still have it?"

"Ummmmm, no." Remus replied, "Smashed." He gesticulated widely in what appeared to be a reenactment of the glass orb's demise. Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"What...did it say?"

"No one heard."

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"How did we-"

"Dummel...Duble...Dumblydore." Remus replied before she could finish. Tonks seemed to accept this, at least for the moment. With his free hand, Remus fiddled with a loose thread of her sheets, smiling quietly to himself.

"Those flowers are from your mum." He said dreamily. Tonks opened her eyes to look. Small purple clumps sat in a wide pot on the table beside her.

"My mother was here?"

"Everyone was here." There was a pregnant pause as she examined his wounded face, and probably wondered how she looked in comparison.

"Am I the only one who was hurt so badly?" She asked, sounding a bit embarrassed. Again, Remus seemed to be deep in thought.

"Sirius is dead."

Tonks' eyes went pale. Her hand was frozen in his grasp.

"What?"

Sobering a bit, Remus winced.

"She killed him."

Before he knew it, Tonks was sitting bolt upright in her bed and looked as if she wanted nothing more than to run from the room. Remus gazed upon her sadly, his once gold eyes hollow and dull.

"No." She said automatically. But Remus Lupin never lied. Nor did he ever hug her, and as she lay slumped in his arms the tears began.

They found him the next morning slipping awkwardly from the cramped, metal chair as he slept. Tonks' arm hung off the side of her bed, inches from his.

"You may want to watch that one." The podgy healer shot at Mrs. Weasley, nodding toward Remus Lupin's limp form as she wrapped up her shift. The room was slowly filling with people and new patients, but the pair in the corner heard none of it.

"Remus...wake up." Mrs. Weasley shook him gently at first, then a little too forcefully when he didn't respond, slightly panicked with justified paranoia.

He suddenly jolted to his senses and nearly fell from his post. Mrs. Weasley steadied him, but recoiled immediately when he hissed in pain.

"Ohhh...God." He muttered as he rubbed his temples. Mrs. Weasly stood by, looking a bit disappointed in him, though concern laced her features. She spared a glance at Tonks, who had now rolled over in her slumber to face the opposite wall.

"Did you tell her?"

Remus looked up from his migraine, apparently genuinely shocked to find Molly standing there. He had to think very hard about what she was asking him, something that he didn't much care to do lately.

"I...yeah." And the previous night's events muffled whatever hope his unconsciousness may have planted. Molly nodded with a sigh.

"The others are upstairs having tea. What do you say we go have a cup?"

Remus, who had returned to cradling his head, looked anxiously toward Tonks

"She'll be here when we get back." She reassured him quietly.

They were only delayed on the fifth floor when Remus had to stumble into the nearest washroom to comply with what his stomach had been pleading for ever since the accident. Molly waited outside patiently as he knelt on the tiled floor, his knees pained and weak from his previous fall. When they finally met the small group of Order members gathered around a large, circular table in the freshly lit tearoom, Remus decided that he didn't feel very social.

"No, I really oughtn't." he pointed out when Moody began to pour him a cup of chamomile tea. Mad-Eye, however, didn't choose to hear him, and finished off the preparation of Remus' cup by slipping in something blue and carbonated from a hidden flask.

"_This_," He announced brusquely as he shoved the concoction into Remus' hands, "will cure any hangover." Remus thanked him shyly and proceeded to test it. It tasted of blackberries and butter almonds, and some earthy spice of which he was sure his mother had used to cook with in his youth. And though his stomach protested at first, and the faint tinge of menthol burned his throat, he rounded it off quickly, feeling better than he had in a while.

"He's going to want to talk about it." Molly Weasley said bracingly three weeks later. Remus looked up from his book and gave her a vacant stare.

"What now? Who?"

"_Harry_." She replied fervently, taking a seat in the chair next to him. _Oh_, thought Remus wearily, and nodded. "And...what is he...?" Molly looked annoyed.

"Sirius." She said in a would-be gentle manner.

"Oh. Right. I suppose he will." Remus pondered this a bit, then added, "But surely he wouldn't want to speak with me about it?"

Molly watched him seriously, thoughtfully.

"You're the closest thing to family he's got now." She explained, placing an air of importance on the sentence, "It's only natural that he'll want to speak with you."

Remus only nodded again. He found it a very useful gesture these days, as he wasn't too fond of striking up conversation anymore. And no one bothered the incessantly agreeable much, did they? Harry wasn't due until next week. The Order, more specifically the Weaslys, Dumbledore and himself, had decided that they shouldn't let as much time go by before "rescuing" him from Number Four Privet Drive as they did last year; Harry himself certainly didn't seem to be complaining.

Remus felt that this discussion was over, and went back to his book, having trouble finding the sentence that he had last read. When he continued to feel Molly's gaze trained upon him, he shyly lowered the novel once more. Her expression was undeterminable.

"Remus..." She said.

Remus stared.

"Sirius...had a will."

Remus stared.

"And in it he specified that he wished Harry to be put into your care if anything...happened."

Remus frowned.

"Oh, Remus, this is James' son we're talking about!" She said exasperatedly. Remus Lupin shook his head for a change.

"No, no. Of _course_ I'll take care of him. I'd never give it a second thought. It's just...I can barely support myself, Molly. How am I going...?"

She sighed. He closed his mouth.

"Right. Well. It'll just have to happen." He supplied grimly, "Though I don't think this old house will be much of a home for him without Sirius."

"Yes, but you're here." Molly stated, still gazing upon him sadly. Remus gave her an odd look.

"Molly, really, I'm not...I'm..."He sat dumbly and weakly in his seat. Molly watched him a bit before,

"Remus, are you all ri-"

"Just the bloody moon." He interrupted sharply. Mrs. Weasley looked all the more concerned, if not a little affronted.

"The moon and about a dozen other things..." She said vaguely as she got up and left the room. Remus watched her go angrily and threw his book aside. Why was everyone making such a fucking deal over him? Why were they treating him as a goddamn _child_? Molly was the worst; she kept a motherly eye on him around the clock, and constantly spouted things like, "Are you feeling ill?", "You're looking a bit peaky", and "I know how you feel." No. She most certainly did not. And neither did the others, who talked about him in hushed voices, and smiled at him when there was nothing to be smiling about. He was fine. He was happy. He could bloody well take care of himself, thank you very much. What he couldn't take care of was a...

He had to support Harry. Somehow. If nothing else mattered now, at least Harry did. Remus buried his face in his hands as the familiar nausea of grief shook him. The disbelief was gone, and now something rash and boiling had set in. Something that wished it were Kingsly who had died that night, or Mad-Eye, or...something that made him hate himself, what he was, because now that no one was here to murmur reassurances in the middle of the night, he was a monster.

He had not yet become accustomed to sleeping alone again.

_Sirius Black bakes a cake. He wears a strange red ribbon around his neck. Remus is trying to figure out what time it is, but the grandfather clock goes up to seventeen, and it isn't moving. It's dark out, though, and he suspects that it must be very early, or very late. He watches as Sirius takes the chocolate cake out of the oven and places it in the sink._

"_Will you help me ice it?" He asks._

"_Okay," Remus complies, "But with what?" Sirius smiles devilishly and is suddenly holding a jar of orange marmalade. He brings a finger to his lips:_

"_Don't tell James- he'll put me in the laundry for sure." _

"_What?"_

_Sirius rolls his eyes. _

"_Just get over here." Remus looks over the edge of the sink. The cake is bloated with water. Just as he thinks that this must be a sponge cake, soapsuds appear in the air._

"_That looks dirty, Padfoot."_

"_Are you accusing me of being a bad cook?" Sirius feigns hurt and places his hands on his hips. Remus smiles._

"_Right then. Butter knives out." Sirius says, and suddenly his wand transforms into a wooden spork. _

"_You can just use that towel." Reasons Sirius, and Remus picks up a purple hand towel with the initials "H.J.P." embroidered on it in curling script._

"_But won't Harry be upset?"_

"_Why should he be? You're his godfather." Remus considers this._

"_Why can't you be his godfather?"_

"_Because, if you haven't noticed, I happen to be dead, mate."_

_Remus doesn't respond. Sirius, having trouble opening the marmalade, goes on:_

"_Look, Remus. I trust you. I know you'll take good care of him."_

"_You didn't trust me before." Sirius stops fumbling with jar for a moment and looks at Remus._

"_Yeah, well I was a git. An idiotic, paranoid- Ah-HAH!" The top of the jar pops off with a noise much like the sound of a plunger at work. Sirius dumps it's contents onto the lumpy surface of the soapy cake and begins to spread it around with his spork. Remus watches him, feeling empty._

"_I miss you." he says dumbly. Sirius tucks a clump of stray hair behind his ear to keep it out of the way._

"_I'd miss you too, Moony, if I didn't know that I'd see you again. And if I weren't standing in a kitchen with you at the moment." Remus looks at him sadly._

"_I wish I were as sure of that as you are."_

"_Don't know why you shouldn't be. When have I ever deserted you?" It's Sirius' turn to be solemn. He puts a hand on Remus' shoulder and gives it a squeeze._

"_What happens if you take that ribbon off?"_

"_My head falls off."_

"_Really?"_

"_No."_

_Remus ponders this a little longer._

"_Then what's it for?"_

"_Don't ask me," says Sirius, with words that Remus could never have thought, "It's your stupid dream." Then he grins widely and embraces Remus as he begins to wake. _

He had become aware of three things in quick succession: one, a kitchen table is no excuse for a bed. Two, the red ribbon with which he had been wrapping Harry's birthday present was in no way as supportive as a pillow. And three, Sirius Black was standing at the sink.

"Hallo, Remus." Came his oddly feminine voice.

"Oh my god." Remus replied.

Tonks' hair was black and at her shoulders. Her eyes were grey, but a little too blue. They sparkled at this as she cocked her head.

"Sorry I woke you."

"No, no, you didn't wa- just surprised me, is all."

She smiled.

"Weird dream." He added as an afterthought.

"Me too," she mumbled around a donut as she took a seat next to him, "A vacuum cleaner was chasing me."

Remus gave her an odd look.

"That's a muggle contraption they use for cleaning." She prompted.

"I know."

He studied her further: her face looked somewhat gaunt, though it may have been attributed to the high cheekbones that looked so very like Sirius Black's. There were dark, purple circles below her eyes, and patches of light freckles that were certainly not Sirius'. Her nose was different than the way she usually liked it, and jagged shadows obscured her cheeks, where black hair spilled in subtle waves at one length. Her eyes, he suddenly realized, were trained on his.

"So what about your dream?"

Remus looked away.

"Literal sponge cakes."

"Sounds fun." she smiled into her donut. Remus looked to the grandfather clock in the corner. It reported that it was well past three in the morning.

"D'you know whose cup of water that is?" said Tonks conversationally, pointing to a nearly empty glass across the table. Remus shook his head. She stood slightly and reached for the glass, knocking over Harry's boxed gift in her wake.

"Oh, _bugger_." She reprimanded herself as she dove under the table for it, water forgotten.

"I hope there wasn't anything fragile- Hey! Nice package!"

"_Excuse me_?" Said Remus immediately, face turning a light crimson.

"I said this is a nice package," she repeated as her head became visible again, "You must've been a professional gift wrapper in a past life."

"Oh. Right. Thanks."

She studied the box carefully. Its dimensions were equal, presenting the package at a fairly medium size. It was dressed in shimmering gold paper that was continuous; a basic yet surprisingly complex charm to master.

"What's inside?"

"A Bulle D'univers."

"_Oh_," Tonks sighed reverently, "my mother has one of those." She stared dreamily at the package and Remus noticed for the first time that night that she was no longer a little girl. He remembered playing hide-and-go-seek with her and Lily at an Order meeting once. She was eight and they were nineteen, almost twenty. That's when Lily told him that she was pregnant. When they were rolling in the grass and Lily said that this was all she needed for her life to be complete. When she laughed and hugged Tonks when the child suggested that she name the baby "Harold" after her favorite stuffed penguin, whose tuxedo needed very badly a trip to the dry cleaner's after so much attention. And Remus nearly cried because James and Lily loved each other so very, very much, and because James rushed over at the sight of Lily on the ground, glasses askew below his knit brow.

"Jesus, I thought you fell, the ba-" 

And from the fingers splayed across the floral print at her abdomen and the grins on their faces he surmised that the secret was out, and he looked rather relieved, for James was never very good at keeping good secrets. And Remus felt such love for these people around him, for Sirius who had ambled over and nearly spit out his beer when they told him the news, that he vowed to never forget this moment of completeness, for he was sure that someday such friends could not all gather together again.

"Remus?"

"Huh?"

"I said your nose is bleeding."

"Oh."

Remus looked down at the thick drops of blood on the kitchen table. Tonks pushed back from her seat and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket.

"Here, tilt your head back." She instructed. Remus complied, and Tonks pressed the soft white cloth forcefully against his nostrils. Her other hand steadied his head, fingers buried in his hair, which shone sliver and brown in the unnatural light of the kitchen.

"I'd charm it away, but things always go horribly wrong when I do things like that. I'm sure I'd remove more than just the blood."

When the flow didn't stop, only persisted, she tugged on his limp arm and got him to his feet. She placed her free hand on his lower back and maneuvered him out of the room.

"C'mon, you're a wreck. You need some _real_ sleep. You haven't slept for more than an hour in days."

When they finally made it to his bedroom, past Sirius' and the ones that people didn't use anymore, Tonks sat him down on his bed and put him in charge of his own ailment. She disappeared from view as she slipped into the adjoining washroom, and returned minutes later with a large porcelain bowl of hot water and a small towel.

"Think you can handle this by yourself?"

In any other instance, Tonks' demeanor would have annoyed him, but at the moment he welcomed the light-hearted, earnest concern.

"Yes." Remus established, and, dipping the towel into the basin, brought it up to his face. He felt Tonks' hands on his shoulders, and as she settled him back onto the pillows he experienced a very odd sensation. She was smiling, but it was Sirius' smile. And her hands were moving, but Sirius' hands were moving. And he couldn't say how many times he had been in this situation before, but the memory, _god_, it could only be a memory now, played itself a million times over in his head.

"What's wrong?" Tonks frowned.

Remus resisted acting on impulse. He clutched at the sheets nervously.

"You're reminding me so much of him." He said evenly.

The freckles that had once littered her nose were gone. She watched him intently. He wondered, somewhere in an undisturbed part of his mind, if she had ever heard them. Had ever caught the furtive glances that they exchanged across the dinner table. Had ever given reason to the way Sirius made excuses to touch him.

The shadow of Sirius' nose now fell across her face.

Oh, hell. They probably all knew. Or at least suspected.

Sirius' chin now ended her pale face.

What did it matter?

Sirius' jaws outlined her cheeks.

Why bother.

Stubble appeared under her lip.

"Do you know, Sirius used to make me scream."

Her eyes went completely grey.

Then Sirius was kissing him, hard and rough, and he tasted of powdered sugar and mint. His hands tangled themselves in Remus' hair, and for one, relieving moment Remus let himself accept it.

"What are you _doing_?" He tore himself from the kiss. Sirius' hands recoiled from Remus as if he had been burnt.

"_Stop _it."

Sirius' nose shrunk.

"Oh, god."

His face became rounder.

"Fuck."

His eyes went brown.

"Just-"

Her cheeks were red.

Nymphadora Tonks hid her own face in her hands while long blond hair hid her from him like a curtain. Remus scrambled from the bed and as far from her as he could manage.

"You..."

"Remus, please-"

"You have no right."

"

I just-"

"You have NO. GODDAMN. FUCKING. RIGHT."

It took Remus a moment to realize she was crying. And before he could say anything, she had run from the room.

He stayed against the wall for a few minutes before numbly picking up the porcelain bowl that she had knocked over and soaking up the spilt water on the carpet with the towel. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and touched the hardened blood above his lip before deciding to sleep on the couch next to the dresser.

Some things, he decided, really were best kept secret.


End file.
